


The best bad idea I ever had

by shinykari (meinterrupted)



Series: pass the ammunition [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Frank Castle's incognito beard, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, minor background Foggy/Matt pining, past Foggy/Marci
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8282426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinterrupted/pseuds/shinykari
Summary: After season 2, Frank shows back up in Foggy's life. It goes somewhat better than Foggy expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iraya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iraya/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Dog's Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7653748) by [ornategrip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornategrip/pseuds/ornategrip). 



> So, first of all, if you are here and you haven't read [A Dog's Life](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7653748), you need to stop what you are doing and go read that first. It's amazing and incredible and I love it so much. It definitely influenced this fic, and I dropped a couple easter eggs in here in reference to it.
> 
> Back? Good. This is a sequel I wasn't going to write to 'On a mission to make something happen' which was supposed to be a one-shot/one night stand. But [sweaterkittensahoy](http://sweaterkittensahoy.tumblr.com/) prompted Frank/Foggy with this title, and it just ... fit. So blame Gayle for this, and [iraya](http://iray.tumblr.com/), who is one of the other half-dozen people on this little rowboat of a ship and who makes the best Frank/Foggy art. Many many thanks to [Molly](http://rescuemepotts.tumblr.com/) for nurturing my Frank Castle/Jon Bernthal obsession and also beta-reading this for me. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

"Your locks are shit."

With a yelp, Foggy dropped the bottle of beer he'd just opened. The glass shattered on the tile floor, pale liquid splashing onto the lower cabinets and all over the hem of his slacks and his very nice new shoes. He flailed around his kitchenette, grabbing for the first weapon-like object in reach--a saucepan with the remnants of macaroni and cheese still stuck to the bottom--and held it between himself and the intruder. "What do you want?" he asked, directing his question to the shadowy figure on the couch.

The man chuckled, and Foggy's heart sped up. He knew that laugh. "You're dead," he whispered.

"Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," Frank said, switching on the lamp next to him.

It was a good thing he'd recognized Frank's voice, since he looked nothing like the clean-cut ex-Marine Foggy and Matt defended a few months ago. His hair had grown from its high and tight into a mass of dark waves, and a heavy beard covered the lower half of his face. He wore a faded black hoodie, jeans, and a pair of old combat boots. Annoyingly, his new look did nothing to detract from his overall handsomeness; if anything, he looked even better dressed like a homeless person.

After another moment of tense silence, Foggy lowered the saucepan and set it back on the stove, since he didn't seem to be in any imminent danger, at least not from Frank. But if he was here… Foggy's heartbeat sped back up, and he swallowed around a spike of panic. "Is Matt okay?"

"Murdock?" Frank cocked his head to the side. "You two broke up?"

Foggy felt his face heat and turned away. The term 'break up' was uncomfortably close to a truth Foggy had spent the last several years ignoring, but it was apt. He grabbed a handful of paper towels and crouched down to clean up the broken glass and spilled beer. "Turns out unsuccessfully defending a mass-murdering vigilante and pissing off the DA isn't so great for business."

He heard the creak of the couch springs as Frank shifted. "Sorry," he said, voice soft and sincere.

Shrugging, Foggy finished mopping up most of the liquid. "Yeah, well, it's not all your fault. Matt-- He wasn't exactly a great partner there at the end." He pushed himself up from the floor, wincing as his knees creaked, and tossed the soaked towels in the trash. He'd need to mop soon, or the floor would get sticky, but that could wait until he was no longer hosting one of New York's most wanted.

"Hard to be a good lawyer when you're spending your nights running around punching criminals while wearing red leather," Frank said, nonchalantly.

Foggy's mouth dropped open and he stared at Frank, who sat calmly on the couch, as if he hadn't just dropped a nuclear bombshell. "You-- How?"

"Close your mouth, Blondie, you're gonna catch flies," he said. Foggy slammed his mouth shut with a click, blush returning at the nickname and the memories that came with it. "Red's not as subtle as he thinks he is. The blind thing threw me off at first, but, well." He shrugged again, "I've seen weirder things than blind men who can fight like that. Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell."

Unsure how to deal with both the reminder of his first meeting with Frank and the fact that Matt's secret wasn't as well-kept as he'd assumed, Foggy opened the fridge and grabbed another bottle of beer. After a moment's consideration, he grabbed a second for Frank.

Frank accepted the beer with a grunt, and Foggy sat gingerly on the chair opposite the couch. He still didn't know what Frank was doing in his apartment, but he assumed it wasn't good. Frank wasn't the type to break under questioning, but luckily for Foggy, law school had taught him patience. After several tense, silent minutes, Frank set the bottle on Foggy's coffee table and folded his hands. "I need a favor."

Foggy's eyebrows climbed to his hairline. "A favor? Why would I do you a favor, Frank? Just having you here could get me arrested!"

"You haven't called the cops yet," Frank said, shrugging. "Why is that, anyhow?"

Foggy looked down, picking self-consciously at the label on his beer, unwilling to meet Frank's eyes. "I'm not sure," he said. "Maybe I figure it'd be more trouble than it's worth to try to try to put a dead man back in jail. Or maybe…" He trailed off, not sure he could bring himself to admit that what Frank was doing might be a necessary evil in a world filled with people like the Blacksmith and DA Reyes.

Frank grunted and leaned back into the couch, letting Foggy have his silence and secrets. "A friend of mine said your firm was looking into IGH. Maybe putting together a lawsuit."

"You have friends?" Foggy blurted out, before schooling his expression and taking a deep breath, mind racing. "IGH is a subject of interest," he hedged. "I'm not willing to--"

"Spare me the speech, counselor," Frank said, waving his hand. "There's a woman, worked in one of IGH's labs. Her little girl got cancer, and she thinks it's from something at IGH. Company, of course, denies it, and fires her for complaining, leaving her with no job, no insurance, and a sick kid. I got her out of a sticky situation with some sleazebags, and I promised I'd try to hook her up with someone who might get her some help."

Foggy pressed his lips together. "What kind of sticky situation are we talking about, Frank?" An arched brow was his only answer. "Yeah, you're right. I don't want to know. Plausible deniability is a lawyer's best friend." Foggy sat back and studied Frank. Under the beard, his face was a little hollow, as if he'd lost weight, and a yellowing bruise circled one eye. After a long silence, he said, "This kind of sounds more like you're doing me a favor instead of me doing you one."

"Does it?" he asked, expression blank.

"Yeah, it does." Foggy narrowed his eyes. "I don't like being lied to or used, Castle."

Frank looked Foggy straight in the eye and said, "Neither do I."

That was a staring contest Foggy knew he would lose, so he didn't bother. He looked down at his hands while he mulled it over. Some strange things were going on around HC&B--people with 'complexities' was the understatement of the year--and having the Punisher owe him a favor might come in handy down the road. Or, a voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Matt supplied, it could come back to bite him in the ass. A memory of Frank's naked ass flashed through his mind, and well. There was that, too. Foggy had always been a sucker for tragic, good-looking men. "Fine. What's this woman's name?"

Frank finished his beer in one long swallow and stood. "I'll send her to you," he said. Moments later, Foggy was alone in his apartment, with a half-finished bottle of beer and a million questions buzzing around his head. Who was this woman, and what could she have on IGH? Did it have anything to do with the firm's investigator? Foggy knew Jessica was a driving force behind HC&B digging into the company, but he didn't have the full picture. And how was the Punisher, of all people, connected?

Foggy sighed and opened his laptop, ignoring the twinge of a stress headache forming behind his eyes. He sent off a quick email to Jeri that he might have a lead on IGH, then opened his landlord's webpage and sent in a maintenance request for stronger locks.

\--

"Knock, knock, Foggy bear," Marci said as she leaned against his door frame. "I can't believe you're still here."

Foggy glanced at the clock on the wall, and couldn't believe it either. It was almost nine, and he'd been in the office twelve straight hours. "Ugh, it's this case. Freaking Larry Cranston is representing IGH, and he's being a dick about discovery."

Marci wrinkled her nose. "Didn't you two have a thing in law school?"

Foggy waved his hand dismissively at her as he started stacking up his files. "We drunkenly made out a couple of times, until Matt and I beat him in debate and he got _super_ weird about it. Nothing serious."

"Well, I never liked him," she declared, as if that settled the matter. "Anyway, I'm going to grab a drink at that martini place you hate. You should come."

"While that sounds very tempting," he said, voice making it clear that it very much did not, "I'm going to go home and order takeout and watch Netflix until I pass out."

"Your loss," Marci said, flicking her still-perfect curls over her shoulder.

"I know, I know." Foggy snapped his briefcase shut and stood up. "I'll walk out with you, though, and tomorrow you can tell me all about whatever poor, innocent young thing you took home and ravished."

She batted her eyes at him. "I know you're joking, but I just might take you up on that. It'll be the closest thing to action you've had in months."

He wanted to deny it, but Marci was right, as usual. Since starting at HC&B, he'd been billing 60-plus hours a week, which left pretty much zero time for a social life, and that workload had only increased since they'd started building a case against IGH. He'd had a couple drunken one night stands when Marci dragged him out as her wingman, but they were never very satisfying. Honestly, the last good sex he'd had was Frank Castle, and _that_ was both terrifying and depressing.

Foggy waved goodbye to Nick, the building's security guard, and waited with Marci as she hailed a cab. One stopped for her almost immediately, and she climbed in. "Last chance, Foggy bear," she offered, one stiletto still on the street, showing off her bare leg in a move that was too smooth to be accidental. "It could be fun."

It was a blatant offer, but he just shook his head. Sex with Marci was fantastic, but it came with complications he didn't want to deal with right now. "Don't take drinks from strange men, Marce."

She rolled her eyes and pulled her leg into the cab. "Yes, daddy. Don't say I never did anything for you," she quipped before slamming the door a little too hard.

His train was on time for once, and he was in his building before ten, even with a detour to the Indian place on the corner for tandoori chicken. He slid his key into the lock, but froze when he turned it only to realize it was already open.

Foggy lowered his takeout to the floor as quietly as possible, wishing he'd bought that keychain mace after all, no matter how much hassle it caused at the courthouse. He reached into his pocket for his phone, and just as he was about to dial 911, the door opened, revealing Frank Castle. Foggy threw his hands in the air and huffed angrily. "Seriously? I just got new locks!"

Frank shrugged and stepped back to let Foggy into his own apartment. "They're much better than the old ones," he offered.

Foggy rolled his eyes and started pulling food containers out of the bag and setting them on the table. "I assume you're here about that favor, but you're going to have to wait, because I haven't eaten since noon, and I don't do well on an empty stomach."

"I'm in no hurry," he said, and moved gracefully behind Foggy to pull a pair of plates down from the cabinet. Foggy narrowed his eyes, but decided discretion was the better part of valor, and besides, vigilante-ing and mass murder probably didn't leave a ton of time for sit-down meals. Behind his bushy incognito beard, Frank looked like he'd lost some weight, and Foggy could spare the leftovers.

Foggy usually turned on the TV or some music as soon as he got home, so the silence as he and Frank ate was a little unnerving. They finished up almost all of Foggy's food, and Frank took both their plates to the sink and washed them without being asked. While he did that, Foggy packed the last of the food in one container and threw the empty ones in the trash. 

It was weirdly domestic.

Frank settled on Foggy's couch, in the same spot he'd been sitting the first time he broke into Foggy's apartment. After a moment's hesitation, Foggy grabbed two beers out of the fridge and handed one to Frank before sitting on the other end of the couch, leaving nearly a foot of space between them. "So. Why'd you break into my apartment? Again?"

Frank let out a low chuckle. "I went to go see Cindy, see how her kid was doing, but she wasn't there. Neighbors said she'd moved out."

"Weird, I didn't hear a question in there."

"Lawyers," Frank said, smirking. "Did your firm have anything to do with her relocation, or should I start knocking down doors to hunt her down?"

"Now that, I can answer." Foggy took a long swig of her beer. "Ms. Shelton and her daughter, at the expense of her newly retained law firm," he said, waving his empty hand at himself, "have been moved to a more secure location. We don't want to take any chances with her safety."

"Huh. Sounds to me more like you're hiding her away where only you and your boss can talk to her," Frank said. 

Foggy shrugged. "Does it? Huh."

At that, Frank threw his head back and let out a full-throated laugh. The smile transformed his face, his teeth very white against the dark beard, and a thrill ran through Foggy's body. He traced the line of Frank's throat with his eyes, down to the collar of his faded black tee shirt before getting ahold of his runaway imagination and looking away. Marci was right--it had been way too long since he'd gotten laid if making the Punisher laugh was enough to get him going. He took a long drink of his beer, hoping Frank hadn't noticed the ogling.

As soon as he pulled the beer away from his mouth, Frank was right there, crowding into his personal space and plucking the bottle from his suddenly nerveless fingers. This close, Foggy could see specks of gold in his brown eyes and the soft edges of a nearly-healed cut on his cheekbone. "I may have misled you a little bit, Blondie," Frank said, his voice sending a shiver up Foggy's spine. "I didn't come here to ask about Cindy."

Foggy opened his mouth, but could only manage to squeak out a pathetic little "Oh?" before being overwhelmed by Frank's nearness.

"Yeah," Frank said, sliding in closer and licking his lips. "I wanted to see you again."

Foggy's heart slammed against his ribcage in a staccato rhythm he was sure Frank could hear, and his cock was already responding. Frank held Foggy's gaze but didn't make any further movements, clearly putting the ball in Foggy's court. If Foggy said no, he knew Frank would back off, and probably disappear into the city, never to be heard from again. But if he leaned forward, if he closed the space between them…

Foggy cursed himself under his breath and leaned in.

As soon as his lips touched Frank's, Frank groaned and pressed forward, pinning Foggy to the couch and kissing him with barely leashed ferocity. Foggy kissed him back just as hard, burying his hands in Frank's hair, the soft curls so different from the harsh buzzcut he'd worn last time they did this. The beard was different too, long enough to be soft against Foggy's face, and warmed by Frank's body heat. Frank's hands skated down Foggy's sides to his waist, sliding up under the untucked tails of Foggy's shirt, his calluses rough against the soft skin of Foggy's stomach. He could feel Frank's erection, trapped behind the fly of his jeans, as they rutted against each other like horny teenagers. The warm spices from their dinner still clung to Frank's lips, and underneath, he tasted a hint of bitter, black coffee that he recognized from before.

After a few minutes of breathless kissing against the arm of the couch, Foggy's neck began to protest. He pushed at Frank's shoulder, and Frank backed off so quickly it nearly made Foggy's head spin. Foggy quickly wrapped one hand around Frank's wrist, keeping him close. "Crick in my neck," he explained.

Frank relaxed, and that sly, confident grin was back. "Bedroom, then?"

"God, yes," Foggy said, not caring that he probably sounded more than a little desperate. Frank didn't seem to mind, standing up and pulling Foggy vertical at the same time. Instead of rushing down the short hallway to the bedroom, he cupped Foggy's head in his hands and kissed him again. Foggy rested his hands on Frank's hips and leaned into the kiss.

Finally Foggy found the strength to pull away from Frank's mouth, though he couldn't stop himself from ducking back in for one last peck. "Bedroom, _now_ " he said, wrapping his hand around Frank's wrist and all but dragging him out of the living room. Frank laughed and followed along willingly, apparently amused by Foggy's caveman antics.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, Foggy reached for the hem of Frank's shirt. Last time, he hadn't gotten to enjoy the reveal of Frank's stupidly nice body, and he intended to change that. "Eager are we?" Frank said, voice light but not mocking.

"Says the guy who broke into my apartment for a booty call," Foggy shot back, eagerly eyeing the broad expanse of Frank's now-naked chest.

"Hey," Frank said, tipping Foggy's chin up so they were eye-to-eye. "It's not--" He cut himself off, eyes darting around the room, as if checking the exits. "I wanted to stay, last time," he said after a moment of silence. "But it wasn't safe. _I_ wasn't safe," he said, interrupting Foggy's instinctive retort.

Foggy swallowed, holding Frank's gaze. "And now?"

"Now?" He shrugged. "Now you know. Your choice."

 _Your choice._ Frank wasn't patronizing Foggy, or withholding crucial information. Frank wanted to protect him, but he wasn't willing to take away Foggy's agency to do it. The fact that he met the bare minimum for being a decent human being in spite of the mass-murdering vigilante thing shouldn't have made Foggy's stomach do flip-flops, but Foggy was quickly coming to understand that the world was a really strange place these days.

"You're an asshole," he hissed, reaching for Frank's belt with clumsy fingers. "And you're wearing too many clothes."

They made quick work of Frank's and then Foggy's clothes, only slowing down when Frank stopped to touch the bullet scar on Foggy's shoulder. "Still hurt?" Frank asked.

"Sometimes," Foggy admitted. "More when it's cold."

Frank nodded absently, callused fingers barely brushing the pinkish scar tissue. "It will for a while."

Foggy's chest tightened at his tone, and unwilling to examine that feeling any further, he distracted them both with a filthy kiss. Frank groaned and kissed back, burying his hands in Foggy's hair and pulling him closer.

Finally, Foggy pulled away, partially for air, but mostly because he was still, annoyingly, wearing pants. While he struggled with them, Frank took the opportunity to position himself at the head of Foggy's new king size mattress, one knee propped up and the other leg outstretched, giving Foggy a perfect view of his hard cock. As soon as he stripped out of his boxer briefs, he climbed up next to Frank, taking a few minutes to just _look_. "I'm feeling very unimpressive right now," he said, eyeing the hard planes of Frank's stomach with a mixture of envy and hunger.

"You're very impressive, Blondie," Frank said, pushing Foggy onto his back and rolling on top of him. He leaned in to give him a very thorough kiss, then started working his way down Foggy's body, paying extra attention to his scar before moving down to lick and bite at his nipples. Foggy whimpered at the raspy feeling of Frank's beard on the skin of his stomach, and outright moaned when Frank rubbed his cheek against Foggy's sensitive inner thigh.

When Frank sucked the head of Foggy's cock into his mouth, it took every ounce of Foggy's willpower not to jerk forward. Frank looked up, catching Foggy's eye, then swallowed Foggy's cock down as far as he could. "Jesus, Frank," he muttered, unable to look away from the vision of Frank's dark head between his legs as he gave Foggy a messy and thorough blowjob.

After several minutes, Frank let his cock go with a wet pop. "Very impressive, Blondie," he said, lips shiny with saliva.

Foggy licked his own lips, and glanced down to see Frank's erection, gone slightly soft but still thick and enticing. "You should fuck me," he said, glancing back to catch the wide-eyed look on Frank's face. "If you want," he added, hurriedly. "You don't have to--"

Frank cut him off with a hungry kiss. "Yeah, yeah I want to," he said.

"Awesome," Foggy said, stomach already clenching with anticipation as he reached for the bottle of lube. 

Frank watched with hungry eyes as Foggy drizzled lube on his fingers and started prepping himself. It had been way too long since he'd been fucked, but the first finger went in easily. He slid a second one in after just a moment, and Frank groaned and gently pumped his cock. "You look so good like that, Blondie, all spread out for me. So good." Foggy whimpered at the praise and added a third finger, needing to get Frank's cock in him sooner rather than later.

"Condoms in the drawer," he panted, breathing through the sharp pain of too much too soon. He adjusted quickly, and by the time Frank rolled on a condom, he was fucking himself freely with all three fingers. "I want you so bad, Frank."

Frank poured more lube onto his cock, then took hold of Foggy's hand. "Let me," he said, carefully easing Foggy's fingers out of his ass. "Perfect," he murmured, using his other hand to line himself up. The stretch was almost too much as Frank slowly pushed in, and Foggy had to close his eyes and breathe through it. Before he knew it, Frank was all the way in, his balls brushing up against Foggy's ass, and when he opened his eyes, Frank's face was right there, smiling down at him. "Good?" he asked.

"So good," Foggy breathed, because it was. Frank was thick but not too long, and as he started to move, he hit Foggy's prostate with every third or fourth thrust--just enough to send sparks up his spine, but not so much it overwhelmed everything. Foggy bent his knees and planted his feet on the bed, using that leverage to tilt his hips up for a better angle.

"God, you feel so good," Frank said, voice rough with need. "You're so hot, just right for my cock. I want to fuck you like this until you can't come any more, and then turn you over and fuck you some more."

Foggy moaned, the dirty talk sending his arousal spiraling even higher. He could just imagine marathon sex with Frank, getting fucked through two or three orgasms, and then letting Frank keep fucking his oversensitive hole until he had to beg for mercy. He cried out when Frank's next thrust hit his prostate head-on and grabbed at the covers, needing them to ground him in the moment.

"You like that idea, hotshot?" Frank asked, pausing his thrusts to lean in and whisper filth in his ear. "You want me to fuck you until you can't think about anything besides my cock inside you? Is that what you want?"

"Yes," Foggy breathed. "Yes I want that."

"Next time," he said, and went back to fucking Foggy strong and steady.

Feeling his orgasm starting to pool low in his belly, Foggy wrapped his lube-slick hand around his cock, jerking it in time to Frank's thrusts. He was close, so close, but it was just out of reach, and he needed something more. He clenched down on Frank's cock, drawing a pained-sounding moan from Frank. The sensation of being so incredibly full tipped him over the edge, and Foggy came with a shout. Frank fucked him through it, keeping his rhythm steady as Foggy lazily stroked the last bit of come from his cock.

Boneless and sated, Foggy smiled up at Frank, whose face was shiny with sweat. Frank took that smile as the permission it was, and he sat back on his knees, pulling Foggy's limp body with him, then hooked his arms under Foggy's legs and bent him practically in half. Foggy's dick gave a half-hearted twitch as Frank fucked into him like a jackhammer, nailing his prostate with nearly every thrust, but it was well and truly down for the count, no matter how hot the casual manhandling was. The position wasn't comfortable, but he didn't have to hold it long; just as Foggy's back started to protest, Frank hissed out his name and shuddered to a stop, coming deep in Foggy's ass.

Foggy whined in the back of his throat as Frank slowly pulled out, leaving him feeling empty and more than a little sore. His come was cooling on his stomach, and he could feel a twinge in both hips from keeping his legs spread wide for so long. Even with all that, he felt amazing. He really needed to do this more often.

Frank sat up and got rid of the condom, but just as Foggy was ready to hear him make his excuses and leave, he lay back down. "You gonna stay this time, Frank?" Foggy asked.

"Mmm," Frank said, spooning up behind Foggy and draping one arm over Foggy's waist. "For a little bit. If you'll let me."

In answer, Foggy shifted back toward Frank and threaded their fingers together. "Yeah, you can stay," he said with a yawn. "If you're here in the morning, I want breakfast, though."

Frank's laugh rumbled through Foggy's chest. "You got it."

**Author's Note:**

> About half-way through writing this, [images of Jon filming the new Punisher series popped up on Tumblr](http://shinykari.tumblr.com/post/151313681274/netflixdefenders-jon-bernthal-starts-filming), so I just had to incorporate Frank's 'incognito beard' into the story.
> 
> I'm running on the assumption that Frank has been aware of who Daredevil is since the first time he "met" Matt Murdock in the hospital. And Frank's unnamed friend is Jessica Jones. They've run into one another more than once in this 'verse, and sometimes sit around and get drunk together. It's a weird friendship, but it works.
> 
> I'm doing my part to contribute to poisonivory's campaign to make college!Foggy/Larry Cranston a thing.
> 
> I don't know if NYC courthouses ban "personal protection weapons" like mace, but my small courthouse does (AND CELLPHONES ARGH) so it seems likely. Even if they don't outright ban them for lawyers, judges, and the like, I assume there's some sort of paperwork Foggy would have to deal with to get approved, and that's a hassle he doesn't care to deal with.
> 
> If you're still here after my absurdly long notes, come visit me on [the tumbls](http://shinykari.tumblr.com/).


End file.
